Back at Home
by azkabcn
Summary: Sequel to Our Separate Ways. He was back at home once again. In every sense of the word. One-shot. Parentlock.


**OK, so the second sequel to Forever as One is finally here! Hope you enjoy this, and Johnlockers, be prepared. I'm not going to say what for but just be prepared, OK? OK.**

 **And please review! We authors love to know what you think!**

* * *

These last five months had been hell.

Absolute hell.

Without John, my mind was just messed up. I was certain that, without Reyna to keep me going, I probably would have surrendered to insanity eons ago.

She was the one who forced me to get up each morning. My baby girl was the one who reminded me to clutch onto the miniscule sliver of stability I had left in myself.

And I loved her for it.

So when were at the airport that September evening, and she wouldn't stop bawling, I had to let it go. I let her cry, knowing she needed her moment. Every time this happened, I knew that it was only fair to her to keep myself composed.

I loaded our luggage onto the belt, forever praising the fact that we had only one suitcase and one small one to take to the plane with us.

It would only take us six and a half hours to get back to our family.

And because Reyna was now eleven months and toddling, I knew that there was a fair chance that I wouldn't get the peaceful and relaxed ride back that I'd been dreaming of.

* * *

We sat in the plane now, waiting for take-off. Reyna sat beside me, her seatbelt clasped firmly.

However, that didn't stop her from wriggling around. I held my arm across her lap.

'Reyna, _sit still_ ,' I scolded rather softly.

She huffed, but did as I asked. 'Excited, Daddy.'

I had to smile then. 'I know. So am I. But the plane won't move until we all sit quietly, OK?'

She crossed her arms. 'Not fair,' she whined.

'Hey,' I said. 'Once we get moving, you'll be allowed to take your seatbelt off. You can get out of your seat, then, OK?'

She looked at me. 'When will that be?'

I sighed exasperatedly. I pointed to the signs above our heads. The seatbelt one was glowing. 'When that sign turns off.'

She sighed, flopping herself against the seat. 'OK.'

'And Reyna,' I said, remembering I had something to tell her. 'When we get there, you'll meet Granny and Grandpa, and Uncle Mycroft. I want you to say hello and be the nice little girl I know you can be.'

I felt I had to tell her, considering she had a tendency to lash out and make a fuss when she met someone new.

'OK, Daddy!' she said enthusiastically.

 _'We are getting ready for take-off. Please make sure all mobile phones are turned off, all seats are in their upright position and all seatbelts are securely fastened. Thank you,'_ the automated voice informed, in an American accent.

Reyna giggled. 'What?' I asked her.

'He sounds funny.'

'That's because it's automated, and American.'

I realised then that even though Reyna was born in America, living with two (later to be one) Englishmen had made her adopt an English accent.

And then we flew.

As the plane reached a higher altitude, Reyna looked out through the window, her face set in a look of awe. I caught her reflection and grinned.

I knew she'd love it. I really did.

'You like it, Rey?' I asked her.

She turned back to me, her face glowing with happiness. 'Beautiful,' she whispered.

I hugged her to my side (a difficulty since there were armrests separating us) and kissed her forehead. 'Good girl,' I whispered in reply.

* * *

We were back. We were back in London, and standing in front of 221b Baker Street. I sighed deeply, a wave of nostalgia washing over me.

I looked down at Reyna, smiling as she stood patiently. 'Ready, Reyna?'

'Ready, Daddy,' she nodded.

I knocked using the knocker, which was still at an odd angle, the way I'd left it.

Moments later, after a voice (which could only be Molly's) screeching, 'They're here,' the door swung open.

Mrs Hudson stood immediately on the other side, with Molly and the others standing further down the hall. I could spot Mum, Dad, Mycroft, Anthea and Lestrade, but Harry and Clara were nowhere to be seen. _Did they know that John wasn't with us?_

'Oh, Sherlock!' Mrs Hudson breathed, her eyes filling with tears.

I went in to hug her, a smile breaking out on my face. 'Hello, Mrs Hudson,' I whispered.

After we parted, Mrs Hudson led us into the hall. I pulled my suitcases in with us and shut the door.

I hugged each of them in turn, starting with my mother. Right at the end, Molly clung to me a little longer than I felt was necessary. I detached myself from her, clearing my throat awkwardly. Molly turned beetroot red.

'Let's see the little angel,' my mother said. I breathed out, grateful for the distraction.

I moved out of the way to put Reyna on full view, but she only gasped and hid herself behind me.

'Scary, Daddy,' she muttered.

I turned myself around and crouched in front of her. 'Reyna, listen to me,' I said softly. 'These are our family. They aren't scary, OK? They love us.'

She shook her head, holding her arms out. I sighed fondly. I picked her up as I stood and turned. 'I think it'd be best to give her some time to get settled in.'

I was met with warm mutters of agreement. I looked at my watch. It was nearly five in the morning. 'Oh, gosh, you guys must all be tired. I didn't realise the time.'

Dad shook his head, grinning. 'Relax, son. We've only just woken up an hour or so ago. You've got all the time in the world.'

I sucked in a breath, knowing what their reactions would be if I asked my next question. But I did it anyway. 'Where are Harry and Clara?'

Lestrade smiled. 'They had some difficulty with their car. They'll be here later in the morning, don't worry.'

There was a puzzled silence. I swallowed, knowing everyone had finally realised.

'Er, Sherlock,' Mycroft asked. 'Where is John?'

I held my breath. 'He- he'll be here later.'

From their faces I knew that none of them believed my cover story and that they knew something was wrong.

And to make matters worse, Reyna looked at me, asking, 'Who's John, Daddy?'

I kissed her forehead. 'I'll tell you later, sweetheart,' I muttered, knowing I was screwed.

I knew I had forgotten to tell Reyna something.

'So, Sherlock,' Molly said, her expression something I couldn't decipher. 'How's American life?'

Before I could answer, though, I heard Mrs Hudson say, 'Let's all sit down in the living room. Sherlock must be tired after his flight.'

She led us into the room, saying, 'Greg, dear, would you mind taking their suitcases through to their room?'

I racked my brains. _Greg? Who was Greg?_

Then I saw Lestrade nod and reach for my suitcases.

'Come on, everyone,' Mrs Hudson called once again. 'Let's all sit down to a long – and very overdue – catch up.'

So we did.

I took the armchair, setting Reyna on my lap.

'How _is_ American life?' Mycroft asked me.

 _Hellish_ , I wanted to say. _Because John isn't there with me._

'Well… British life is better,' I finally answered.

'You moved to America because?' Anthea said. Those were the first words she had said to me since I arrived.

'We needed a change,' I replied.

'Sherlock, let me ask you this,' I heard Lestrade say. When had he come into the room? 'What's this officer guy like to work with?'

I smirked. 'Very rough, I'd say. He's just… we haven't clicked, I guess.' I shook my head.

'Daddy,' Reyna muttered, fiddling with the lapel on my jacket. She stuck the thumb of her other hand in her mouth.

'Yes?' I said, looking down at her.

'Tired.'

'Go to sleep, then, sweetie. I'm right here, it's OK.'

I gently pulled her thumb out of her mouth. I looked up and saw Mycroft staring at me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head, stirring himself out of his stupor. 'Dear Lord, brother,' he muttered. 'You've changed.'

I smiled, looking down at my little girl. 'Yes. I have. She's changed me.'

'Finally!' Lestrade breathed, grinning madly. 'About time!'

Then the doorbell rang. I stiffened, thinking it was John.

But after Mrs Hudson went to answer it and I heard two female voices, I relaxed, but only a little. Harry and Clara.

They were bound to ask about John. What could I say then?

'Hey, guys!' Clara greeted, stepping into the room with Harry just behind her. 'Sorry we're so late; there was a problem with our car, it wouldn't start.'

Harry made her way in. 'Hey Sherlock, how are you doing? How's John?'

I sucked in a breath. 'We're… we're both good, Harry. You?'

'I'm really great, thank you. Where's John?' Her voice was accusatory.

'He's on his way,' I replied.

They looked at each other, obviously sceptical. But they remained silent, choosing to pretend they believed my cover story, at least for now.

* * *

Three hours later, after I'd put Reyna to bed and we'd all done a decent amount of catching up, the doorbell rang. I tensed, certain that this time it was going to be John.

 _My_ John.

To prove my point, I heard Mrs Hudson squeal, 'Oh John, you're here at last!'

I bit my tongue to stop myself screaming at hearing his voice after so long.

They both entered the room and John's eyes fell to mine instantly. 'Sherlock?'

I avoided his gaze, instead busying myself with taking a sip of the red wine I had in my hand.

'How are you doing, Sherlock?' John asked me, his voice soft.

'I'm doing great, thank you, John.' I didn't reciprocate his question.

I looked at Lestrade. 'Lestrade, have you found an 'exhilarating case' for us to work on, yet?'

But instead of answering my question, Lestrade stood in between us. 'Alright,' he said. 'What's going on with you two? You're not shoving your tongues down each other's throats like I thought you would be.'

Everyone sniggered, while John and I both flushed crimson. I stole a glance at him; he hadn't changed a bit. He was still as beautiful as I remembered him.

I saw a million thoughts rushing through his head.

'We… sort of… broke up a few months ago,' John replied sheepishly, after what felt like millennia.

 _Everyone_ was shocked. I knew they weren't expecting that one.

'Hold up, hold up!' Lestrade said, holding his hands up. 'You guys did _what_?' he said disbelievingly.

I rolled my eyes. 'We broke up, Detective Inspector. It's not a big deal.'

He scoffed. 'It is when you're soulmates. You and John are like the most inseparable couple ever!'

John gave a snort. 'Yeah right, pull the other one, Greg! If that was true, we wouldn't be in this position.'

'But, guys,' Harry piped up. 'Why?'

'Because…' I looked at John, wondering what I should tell them.

 _Tell the truth, Sherlock_ , he mouthed.

I nodded slightly. 'We had an argument, that's all. It just created an even bigger hole.'

There was a very awkward silence. It dragged on and on. My eyes shifted all around the room, looking anywhere but at John. My hands fisted, and I bit my tongue. I had to have some alone time with him. I _had_ to.

Finally, Mrs Hudson said,' OK, everyone, in the kitchen! Breakfast needs preparing for!'

Everyone apart from John and I filed into the kitchen. My mother followed, shouting, 'Let's give our boys a breakfast to remember!'

I ducked my head, embarrassed.

Everyone else trailed after them, leaving John and I in the living room by ourselves. I cursed the silence; it was making things even more awkward.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and switched it on. There was nothing. Not a call, text or email that could distract me from John. I bit my tongue. I was determined not to be the one to speak first, even though I really wanted us to work things out.

Finally, John said, 'So. How's everything been, Sherlock?' He paused and then added, 'Seriously.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'Would you like an honest answer or an answer that would make you happy?'

John thought for a minute. 'Sherlock. Your honest answer would make me very happy.'

 _Damn it, John_.

'Fine. Things have been… hell. I thought I was going crazy at one point. Nothing made sense, apart from the fact that I was a father and that I felt as if I was dying inside.'

'Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't agree with you there. Things have obviously… been different for us both… but… I missed you. I missed you a hell of a lot.'

I inhaled. 'I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to be as blunt as I was.'

He nodded, standing up. 'Hey, I was the one who interrogated you. But… I guess we're both as much to blame as each other.'

I stood and walked, stopping a foot or so in front of him. 'Where did you go, John? I tried calling you and texting you but you never replied.'

He smiled. 'I had two possible options. I could go and stay with two of my friends. I could stay with Jamie or Hannah,' he explained. He sighed, shaking his head. 'In the end, I chose to stay with Hannah because I knew that if I stayed with Jamie, there was a chance that my opinion of you would change. And I didn't want that.'

I smirked. 'Is that so?'

He matched my smirk, tons of smugness radiating off of him. 'Yeah. You're nice. But Jamie's nicer.'

'I'm _j_ _ust_ nice?' I queried playfully, my arms going to hold his waist.

'Yes. You're _just_ nice,' he countered, mocking my tone. He wrapped his arms round my neck.

I chuckled. 'That's not the word I'd have used.'

'No?' John smiled. 'What would you have used?'

'I would have said something like, oh, I don't know, amazing. Brilliant. Mysterious. Beautiful. Or words to that effect,' I explained.

'Narcissist,' John muttered flatly.

'It's not narcissistic if you think of me like that too.' I smirked.

'Oh, now I think of you as beautiful, do I?' He shook his head mischievously. 'I don't know, Sherlock...'

'Would you like me to prove it?' I whispered. I inched closer to him, so that our noses were almost touching.

'Oh, hell yes,' he breathed huskily.

And then our lips touched, softly at first, but I knew that we were about to have that second chance I had been craving for so long.

I was back at home – in every sense of the word.

* * *

 **There. What did you think? Johnlockers, are you pleased? I know I am. In my first draft, I had made Sherlock introduce Reyna and John, and Reyna taking an obvious dislike to him, but then I cut it out.**


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